On the Death of a Saint
by xFictionalMenRTheRealThingx
Summary: A series of 3 or 4 stories, looking at the deaths from others perspectives, where possible. I know, a bit dreary perhaps, but the idea came to me, so I may as well publish it. Please read/review and all that jazz / I OWN NONE OF THE CHARACTERS. Victor Hugo and the 2012 film people own it/ rated T because I'm not sure that death scenes are really K material, in my oppinion
1. Chapter 1

**I own none of the characters used in this story. Film based (2012). Please review/subscribe/favourite as you see fit.**

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**On the Death of Fantine.**

_**This one is from Valjean's perspective, as he is the only other character in this scene**_

As he looked at her, lying on the hospital bed, drenched in sweat, and reaching out to her absent daughter, Jean Valjean felt guilt like he had never felt guilt before. He had condemned her to this, this existance. Life was too kind a word. This was not life for her, this was a postponing of death. And oh, how guilty he felt. When he saw her among the prostitutes earlier that evening, he could scarce believe it was that same woman who had been in that fight at the sewing house. How far she had fallen. Because of him. This broken, delirious woman before him was the product of his actions.

As her deliriums strengthened, he went over to her, to calm her. As he held her to him, he made her a promise. Young Cossette would want for nothing. He would find her, take care of her, he promised. She turned her head back towards the curtain, talking once more to Cossette. I'll see you when I wake, she promised. And her eyes closed for the last time.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: OK, heres the next chapter. Thank-you very much to those of you who have reviewed. I hope you like it, please l know your thoughts.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the character or anything**

**[sorry, notices a typo, so did a little bit if editing...]**

**[3-5-13, Once again, my apologies for those of you who thought that this was a new chapter. One reviewer (sorry, forgot your name) asked me what was with the random spacings, which appeared after my edit to rid it of typos. Honest answer, i have no idea. But this edit has removed them all, i hope. I don;t know when the next chapter will be, but there will deffinitly be one. Everythings rather manic at the moment, so hang in there for the next chapter. June, will probably be when it appears...]**

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**On the Death of Eponine**

_**From the point of View of Enjorlas, becuase I rekon as he's an observant guy with a heart. And he's good friends with Marius. And I love his red coat...**_

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He heard the gun shot and turned to see a boy fall, letting go of the rifle's barrel. As he continued to watch, Enjorlas saw Marius catch the body up in his, holding it close. Why would he... ah , he saw it now. There in Maruis's arm was no boy, but the poor, quite Eponine, the girl he was too blind to see loved him. Like everyone else, Enjorlas had seen the wistful glances Eponin sent Marius' way.

When she first came to the meetings, heads were turned. Why was she there? Soon enough though, they had all seen how she loved Marius, and the hope that was in her eyes every time he spoke to her. However, one day that changed. She came up the stairs, in search of Marius, no doubt. But instead of the hope in he r eyes , there was almost empty, with hints of hurt and betrayal. So she had found out ab out Marius' mystery girl then? As Maruis caught sight of her, and rushed over, Enjorlas heard him ask if she had found her. _Had she found her? _So Marius was indeed blind. Enjorlas' heart went out to Eponine then. Over time, he had developed a soft spot for Eponine, perhaps out of pity for the way that Marius unknowingly hurt her time and time again.

As he watched the bittersweet tableau in front of him, Enjorlas felt an unfamiliar ache behind his eyes. Was this...grief?He had felt so few emotions recently, aside from passion for the revolution, and fury against the royalists. He tried to blink away the ache, but that caused tears to well up in his eyes. He looked around, and saw all the others watching the pair, with similar expressions on their faces. Marius was holding her, wip ing away her tears, telling her she would be fine. But Eponine knew her life was ending and Enjorlas heard her say something about rain being unable to hurt her now. She felt no pain, and was h appy to be finally falling as leep in the arms of the man she loved . When her eyes closed, and her arm fell limply to her side, Enjorlas dashed the tears from his eyes, and walked over to Marius, who let out a sob as all pain and suffering fell from her face. All had been touched by this display, and they all felt that they had even more cause to continue with this revolution. Eponine had given her life for Marius, and the cause.

Enjorlas took Eponine's body from Maruis , who was being comforted by Grantaire, and took her inside, placing her beside the young Gavroche, the first fatality. As he laid her down, Enjorlas notice peace that was now on her face. As he brushed her hair off her face, and pressed quick kiss to her cold forehead, Enjorlas once again felt the ache behind his eyes. As he left the room, he turned before closing the door, and muttered quietly

"Goodbye, dear Eponine".

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**I hope this was OK. My memory can be rat her temperamental at times, so I have n o idea who any of the men aside from Ma r i us and Enjorlas were, so I have no i de a who Grantaire is. If I have borro we d h im from another fic, my sincerest ap olog ie s.**

**The next one is going to be the death of Enjorlas and the other guy with him, fr om the point of view of the soldiers wh o shoot them. **


	3. Chapter 3

**OK, The death of Enjorlas and Grantaire (I hope I have him in the right place now! haha), from the perspective of the two soldier people who shoot them.**

**My apologies for the horrendously long wait. I've had a lot on my plate recently, what with ASs, coursework, personal statments and the like. **

**I don't think that there will be any more after this, but I'm entertaining the thought of doing Javert's suicide, from the perspective of someone looking out of a window. If you have any ideas about anyone else I could do, drop me a PM :)**

**As always, a review or a follow would be lovely :)**

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The two french soldiers ran up the stairs of the ABC, having followed the Revolution leader up them. Just about all the other revolutionaries were gone, and this one was cornered.

There he was, standing by the window, in his very conspicuous red coat, now spattered with muck and blood. There was a hint of panic in his eyes, but he stood tall and proud, knowing he was going to die for what he believed in.

The soldiers raised their muskets, and aimed, but they heard steps behind them. Another one of the students appeard at the top of the stairs. He barely threw them a glance before making his way over to his friend. They looked at each other, and then turned together to face the soldiers. The soldiers then looked at each other, hints of doubt creeping into their eyes. All these students had wanted was freedom, equality. What was so bad about wanting that? Then they remebered their duty, and turned back to the students, who still stood straight and proud. _Go on _their eyes said. _We're ready. Just do it._

The Soldiers raised their muskets again, and shot without hesitation. They hit the dark haired one, but the one in the red coat had been missed. He looked at his fallen comrade, shock and sadness fleeting into his eyes for a second. Then all emotion was gone. He looked at them, and squared his shoulders. They shot. The force of the bullet had him thrown out the window backwards, and when the soldiers left the building, they saw him there, hanging upside down, in the flag of his failed revolution, arms spread wide, and his face at peace.

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**So, there it is, the probably last chapter. Thank you for reading it. If you like it, follow/favourite/review, and who knows, there may yet be another chapter...**


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